"Donner and blitzen," cried Hatteraick, leaping up and grappling with him, "you shall have it then!"
Glossin resisted as best he could, but his utmost strength was as nothing in the mighty grasp of the angry savage. He fell under Hatteraick, the back of his neck coming with a fearful crash upon the iron bar.
In the morning, true to his promise, Mac-Guffog called Glossin to come out of Hatteraick's cell.
"Call louder!" answered a voice from within, grimly.
"Mr. Glossin, come away," repeated Mac-Guffog; "for Heaven's sake come away!"
"He'll hardly do that without help!" said Hatteraick.
"What are you standing chattering there for, Mac-Guffog?" cried the captain of the prison, coming up with a lantern. They found Glossin's body doubled across the iron bar. He was stone dead. Hatteraick's grip had choked the life out of him as he lay.
The murderer, having thus done justice on his accomplice, asked neither favour nor mercy for himself, save only that he might have paper whereon to write to his firm in Holland.
"I was always faithful to owners," he said, when they reproached him with his crimes. "I always accounted for cargo to the last stiver! As for that carrion," he added (pointing to Glossin), "I have only sent him to the devil a little ahead of me!"
They gave him what he asked for—pens, ink, and paper. And on their return, in a couple of hours, they found his body dangling from the wall. The smuggler had hanged himself by a cord taken from his own truckle-bed.